Carry On, Wayward Son: A Cold Fire Rising story
by BrightLotusMoon
Summary: When four mutant brothers encounter monsters they can't defeat on their own, two human brothers already on a monster hunt find themselves swept up in the oddest little adventure.


(Author's Note: Copied over from"Cold Fire Rising: Oroborous". Because people kept asking me to make this a separate oneshot so fans of 'Supernatural' could find it. If you have no idea what's going on, you may want to read my other stories.)

* * *

 **Carry On, Wayward Son**

As a child, Michelangelo had moved quickly. He was a runner, a sprinter, a leaper, he bounded, he bounced, he spun.

During the small walks around the sewer tunnels during those formidable years, Yoshi, still slightly unaccustomed to being Splinter, would sometimes place his terrapin children in tiny pockets of wall and sing them to sleep while he went to the surface to bring supplies for their little home. He was always quick, and back within twenty minutes, and it was always the youngest who woke first, chirping "Dada!" and holding out freckled arms, baby blue eyes shining and full of love. And as the little group walked back to their home, the youngest would skip ahead and run just a little too fast, and it was always, "Michelangelo, stay close to your brothers, please!" that would bring him back, because Daddy was warm and full of love, and his brothers needed him.

When they were four, and Splinter with confidence and pride, they ventured slightly deeper, and it was Michelangelo who found the hole first. Around it lay scattered two-by-fours, thick and huge pieces of plywood that should have been unmovable, and yet there were nails embedded and there were nails scattered. Warmth spread up and out, dangerous warmth that felt like hisses and calls for blood, calls for spirits. All over the was were oddly-drawn paintings of snakes. Snakes everywhere.

And when Splinter naturally came toward to curious calls of his baby, his fur stood up and he hissed hard enough that even little Raphael stopped grumbling and stood like a statue. And little Michelangelo simply stood there, bouncing, at the very edge of that jagged abyss, and gazed into it with bright, quick eyes. Splinter's heart was pounding so hard he though the very sewers could hear it. And when Michelangelo turned to him, his eyes wide and bright and somewhat glassy, said solemnly, "I bet they can hear us!" Splinter growled and snatched him up, and the other three followed silently as he ran toward the lair, but Michelangelo only laughed softly and patted the side of his face and murmured, "S'okay, Daddy, they're just lonely and hungry!" and that only made Splinter's heart want to crack in terror.

* * *

"Ugh, that's another one." Raphael lashed out with the broom as Leonardo kept mumbling "Gentle, gentle," and the tiny snake slithered between the crack. "How and why do they keep coming to the lair? The sewers and subway tunnels are huge, guys!"

"They most likely smell food," Leonardo reasoned. "And warmth."

"Hey, I cannot help it if I love baking," Michelangelo sniffed, carefully guiding another snake away from the lair, "and if Donnie built the world's best stove."

"Right, it's all my fault," Donatello mused in sarcasm.

"Uh, kinda is, dude? You're the one building heat lamps everywhere and-"

"Because despite what a darn veterinarian thinks, we are still turtle enough to need heat and water?"

"Leave his girlfriend's sister outta this, she's just doing her job."

"Raph, she is not my-"

"Besides, if you don't, said vet's wife will beat you up. Also, Mikey, Gaia is so your girlfriend it's not funny. When you start banging, you're definitely boyfriend and girlfriend, end of discussion."

"Don, Rhea never said we weren't turtle enough," Leo said calmly, standing up. "She said we were more hominid than chelonion. You're being offended by your own science."

"Awww, does Raph have a crush on Freya?"

"Shut up, Mikey, I swear…"

"It's cool, they're polyamorous!"

"There's another snake! I should probably just seal these cracks…"

"Hey, April's texting. There's some news report about humans wandering into the sewers and falling down a huge hole and dying?"

"Wait, April texted you? Why didn't she text me? Oh, it's a group text."

"Really, Donnie, give it a rest."

Sighing, Leonardo went to the television and turned it to the news channel. The story was small, one of those "and in other, local news" stories. But it caught his attention. Because the spot the reporter was describing was one he remembered going to as a young child. He leaned closer, tilting his head. Yes, definitely. But Splinter had made them leave, Splinter had seemed frightened and angry. There had been…wood boards? Why?

"Hey, guys, do you have any vague memory of-"

And as he turned, he saw Mikey staring at the screen, mouth open, eyes glazed, shivering. Quickly, Leo turned off the TV and knelt in front of Michelangelo, reaching for his hands. "Mikey, what is it? Are you seeing something?"

His brothers quieted, gathering around. Mikey blinked and shook himself. "Huh? What? What, why are you all looking at me? Did I do the weird psychic thing again?"

"You did _a_ weird psychic thing," Raph muttered. Donatello flicked his arm.

"Did you hear that news report?" Leo clarified.

"Oh! Yeah. You guys don't remember that place? It was awesome. There were, like, murals of snakes on the tunnel walls and everything."

Leo and Don exchanged a look. "I keenly do not recall it being in any way awesome," Don said. "In fact, I remember sensei desperately getting us away from there. He had to pick you up and carry you because you were so close you were ready to fall in. You squirmed the whole way home."

Mikey stared at him and scratched the back of his neck. "Really? Huh. Sooo, nobody remembers the voices?"

They glanced at each other in alarm.

"I think we should go talk to Master Splinter," said Raph gruffly.

* * *

Master Splinter didn't want to talk about that day.

"Yes," he said, head bowed, head half closed. "I remember that day vividly. But I do not believe it to be of great importance currently."

They glanced at each other.

"But the news reports are saying that people have gone down there and not come out," Donatello said. "As in, they may have died. Brutally."

Splinter raised his eyebrows, ears perked.

"Also, him," and Raphael pointed at Michelangelo, who was humming and looking at the walls.

"Wha, me? What'd I do now?"

"Your _vision_ , numbskull. Or whatever that was. During the news report?" Raph tapped him on the head. "What was that about?"

Mikey shrugged. "I'unno. I forget. Hey, is anyone else really warm right now?"

"No. Donnie lowered the heat to stop those little snakes from getting in." Leo raised an eyeridge.

"You sure, dudes? Because it's like a sauna. A really over-saunaed sauna."

"Mikey," Don said, with exasperation, "I promise you, the lair is not over-heated. If anything, I made it just a little cooler. We may all want to sleep with heat lamps for a couple of days."

"Ugh." Michelangelo scrunched up his face. "No thanks. I don't want to sleep through a sauna, no matter how turtley I am."

His brothers exchanged glances that said "It's Mikey, what can you do?" and turned away. But Splinter came forward and swiftly pressed his hand against Michelangelo's forehead. "You are warm," he murmured."

"I know, right?" Mikey said. "I mean, I love to bask as much as the next turtle, but this is just silly. Also, you hear that weird hissing noise, right?"

Splinter's hand instinctively jerked and his eyes widened.

"The ones that sound like voices. Come on, nobody can hear that?"

"Michelangelo," Splinter said, very carefully. "Do you remember how to get to that…place we went to when you were children?"

"Sure! Also, hi, psychic."

"Yes. That may be why you alone hear these sounds." Splinter tried to smile kindly.

"Oh! Right. Sorry, it's been a really weird day. I've had weird dreams. Also my head's been hurting and I feel dizzy and I should go splash water on my face."

And when Michelangelo skipped back into the pit of the lair, Splinter struggled to recall if there had been any iron around the hole twelve years ago.

* * *

"Yeah," his older brother said, flopped down on the hotel bed, looking deflated, "a trip to New York City sounds awesome. And hey, kicking a little monster ass before we get some takeout? I'm up for that."

"They're saying it's underground," he said. "Like, sewers underground. Abandoned subway tunnels."

"What, and we haven't fought monsters through sludge and crap? Hell, maybe we can find out if those rumors are really true, like…giant alligators or…or mutated turtles that got flushed or whatever."

He sighed, shrugged, and opened a beer, wondering if the Impala's tank had been filled, reminding himself to check his gun's rounds.

* * *

The five of them walked silently through the tunnels, although every now and then, Mikey would hum a tune. Splinter led the way, and wouldn't answer questions; his muscles seemed rigid. The tunnels were getting slightly warmer.

"Thataway," Mikey murmured, pointing, and they went right. Nobody commented on Mikey's startling lack of enthusiasm or energy. They assumed he was concentrating. The team dynamic had altered enough during the past year that Michelangelo's calm silences were seen as attempts to focus his telepathic or clairvoyant senses.

Slowly, as the ground sloped, they saw it, the massive hole laid over with wood, some fresh and some old. As Leonardo knelt to examine it, Donatello began walking around its edge. "Makes me wonder why they've been using wood and not metal to seal this thing. It's not as if the hole goes anywhere."

He stepped on an end of one of the wood pieces, and Michelangelo screamed "STOP!" and Don shuddered and nearly lost his balance, staring at his little brother, who just stared back at him.

"Don't walk directly over it, silly," Mikey said, jovially. "You might wake them up."

"Uh oh," Leo muttered under his breath.

Heat was rising like summer steam, and everyone but Michelangelo backed away a little. And then he giggled a few times, swayed, said in a high-pitched voice, "It is _really really_ hot in here!" – and collapsed.

* * *

As his brother drove across the Brooklyn Bridge, he kept researching and cross-referencing. "Literally the only thing I can find is something about snake demons, who use telekinesis to paint snake drawings around the area so people notice and come look... waiting for people to walk over deep trenches and holes, then snap them up and kill them by drinking all the blood and possibly the spirit, which amplifies the snake creatures' telekinetic and telepathic powers. Like, they can sense the heat and blood of any psychically sensitive person, but they will particularly rise from their lair to find those with strong telekinetic powers to try and kill them before that person kills them. So, hey, maybe I can draw them out a little."

"Mm'kay," his brother said. "How can we kill them?"

"Uhh, hang on…okay, it seems that someone with deeper, stronger powers than the creature would need to stab it through the face or eye with iron, or something containing iron, staining the iron with his own blood…"

"Like that one new dagger we got in the bag?"

"Yup, like that. And then, ummm, all of the related yokai incidents will recede back through the abyss from out they crawled…and then there's nothing else. That's it."

"What the fuck's a yokai?"

"Japanese word for demon or supernatural creature."

"Oh, so now we're getting involved in Godzilla shit? This is interesting. So where's the hole located?"

He briefly smiled before replying. "An abandoned tunnel under Chinatown's best noodle shops."

His brother threw back his head and roared with laughter. "Oh, this is just too good, man!"

He reached for the radio, and turned up The Foo Fighters' "Learn To Fly" and sang at the top of his lungs.

* * *

In his ice bath, Mikey had asked for the radio to be placed nearby, and now he and Raph were listening to The Foo Fighter's "Learn To Fly" at a ridiculous volume while Raph playfully splashed his still-sweating little brother.

"You in there, kiddo?" he asked.

Mikey, his head leaning far back and his entire body submerged to the neck, half-opened his eyes. "More ice," he mumbled.

Trying not to frown, Raph dug the scoop into the cooler again. "You're gonna make us run outta ice, buddy."

"Nah. Ice Crm Kitty c'n make more. Shz good like tha'." The slurring was even worse. Raph debated yelling for Don again, but there wasn't much they could do at this point. Mikey was slowly succumbing to hyperthermia, and while he hadn't mentioned cramping in his muscles, the passing out in the tunnel was proof.

"Hey, Raph?"

"Yeah, Mikey?"

"Can I get out 'n stretch? Muscles are all weird 'n crampy."

All right, there was cramping.

"Donnie!" he yelled.

As though he had been waiting nearby, Donatello appeared in the doorway. "Everything okay?"

Raph pointed to Mike, who was squirming to sit up. "Cramps. He's got cramps. And he asked for more ice."

"Shiiit." Donnie crouched and pressed the back of his hand to Mikey's forehead. "He's still burning." Leonardo, behind them, turned off the radio. "I don't _get_ it. Nobody should be passing through the stages of hyperthermia like this. What the hell is in that hole, and is it doing this, and how do we get rid of it?"

"Why're you askin' us, you're the scientist!"

"I'm asking the air, Raph. Okay? I'm asking the goddamn air, because our kid brother might die of heat stroke before the day is out, and we live in the _sewer!_ "

"That's it," and Raph stormed out, across the lair, where Splinter and April and Casey had been staying openly for the past two days. "I'm gonna find that hole, and I'm gonna make whatever is in it come out, and I'm gonna go stab it in the fucking face!"

An unfamiliar, gruff voice called out from beyond the turnstiles, "Then you had better be a damn good real psychic with an iron knife on you, pal, because this is a snake demon!"

Everybody froze.

* * *

Sam and Dean hadn't expected much when they had finally reached the boarded-up hole in the sewer tunnel. Impressive paintings of snakes all over the walls. Excessive heat rising from it with absolutely no source, Sam's mention of hissing noises. "Yeah, there's no way I have any power to kill these things," he said. "But I saw them. In my head. There's two of them, coiled up, eating a couple of teenagers."

"Fantastic," Dean murmured. "Maybe we'll find a psychic alligator down here."

Voices floated from the other end, pushing the brothers into shadows. They turned off their flashlights. The party on the other end had flashlights, and what they saw made Dean decide to wonder if he really should step out and ask about the alligators.

Four humanoid turtles and one humanoid rat, the turtles around five-six and the rat close to six feet, gathered around the hole, chatting about it and examining it. They had human voices. Human expressions. Human concerns. Particularly when the smallest turtle, dotted with freckles, yelled out, looked overly concerned, began sweating profusely, and toppled over in a dead faint. The others moved like a blur, calling "Mikey! Mikey!" The Winchester brothers watched in stunned silence as the giant rat lifted up the turtle like a child – it had even said "my son" – and began leading the others way. Shakily, the Winchesters followed, with Dean's hand near his gun holster and Sam hissing in his ear _not_ to shoot on sight.

As the voices faded around a curve, Sam whispered, a little louder, "Dean, that's a _family_. And I think these yokai are affecting the little one, he might be the youngest. They're brothers. The rat is their dad. I think… I mean, you know how bizarre Manhattan gets. We've seen those news clips. I think…they're _mutants._ "

"Sooo…what if they really are friends with the giant alligators?"

* * *

The lair was full of nervous movements, twitches, shuffles, hands grasping here and there.

All eyes were trained on the entrance to the lair, beyond the turnstiles. From the bathroom, Michelangelo began to yell, "Okay, getting out now! Gotta get the snakes killed dead! They want power for blood, you know…" And somehow his fever-soaked body had gained bizarre strength, and Raphael and Donatello barely managed to restrain him while Leonardo, katanas in hand, crept toward the turnstiles. Mikey had half-dragged his brothers all the way out into the center of the lair, soaking wet. April and Casey had backed up to the couch, silent. Splinter was directly behind Leonardo, hands behind his back.

Footsteps approached a little closer. Human shadows threw against the floor and walls.

Raphael let out a low, long growl.

That gruff voice said, "I've got a gun, you know!"

Another voice, smoother and higher, said "Dean, put the gun away, I'm serious!"

"Sam, do you see how serious I am? This is my serious face! This is my serious gun!"

Leonardo called out "I've got katana swords and I'm a ninja, do not test me!"

Raphael was twitching, all but leaping in slow motion.

"Snakes!" Michelangelo yelped.

"What snakes!" Donatello cried desperately.

Splinter stepped forward, and with decades of authority, yelled "STOP."

As two young men prepared to step through the turnstiles, the entire lair became a place of living statues.

The only motion was the rise and fall of breath and the dripping of water.

Dean and Sam put their hands up.

Leonardo sheathed his swords.

Everybody just stared at each other.

Splinter ascended the stairs, and stopped close enough so that the boys felt his whiskers tickle their palms. Very slowly and neutrally, he said, "My name is Splinter. Who are you and how did you find our home?"

Dean stuttered. He thought about reaching for his gun again.

The rat master's ears went back. "I am a ninjitsu master from Japan. I once was human. I know every single pressure point on the human body. I can drop you both in seconds. Please start speaking."

Sam blurted out, "Uh, I'm Sam Winchester, this is my brother Dean, we're hunters, we drive around the country hunting monsters and urban legends, we learned about, uhh, snake yokai in the sewers killing people, we wanted to check it out, Dean thought there might be a psychic alligator who could help, and we have never encountered anybody like you guys. Hi?" And he gave a very nervous smile.

Splinter looked into Sam's eyes, for a long time. He slowly bowed. "Very well." Then he stepped aside. "Please, Winchester brothers, come in."

"Uh," Dean said, "Mind if your, um, sons, put the sharp things away first?"

Without turning around, Splinter snapped, "Raphael! Put away your sais."

Raphael muttered, "Wait how did he know how we're related?"

There was a tail thump from Splinter. Raph put his sais in his belt, then pulled Mikey to the couch. "I'm layin' him down, and he really wants to leave the lair, sensei."

Sam hurried forward, then remembered himself. He very slowly approached the couch, hands up again, and Raph immediately hissed. Donnie snapped at him. To Sam, he said, "Sorry, he's really overprotective, and you're new."

Sam didn't even blink. "Oh, I get it. I really, really get it. I'm the younger brother."

Raphael seemed to relax just a little. "Yeah, fine. But you're not touching him, pretty boy."

Sam narrowed his eyes. "Look, I know what this is, and if I'm right, your little brother is in big trouble, and we need to find a really, really powerful psychic. Like, telekinesis for breakfast powerful."

From his fetal position on the couch, Michelangelo lifted his arm and chirped, "Thass me. Hi there, tall human! I like you!"

Sam looked down at him and murmured, "Shit."

* * *

Ten minutes later after introductions all around, Sam and Don had managed to sit Michelangelo up, cover him in cold cloths and ice packs, and get him talking properly. Donnie had to prompt him to use psionics to bring his body temperature down – "We're all so used to his telekinesis that we forget it's so recent, and when he's so out of it that _he_ forgets, it's troubling," – Donnie explained.

Stories were traded, origins and backgrounds and reasons _why_ ninjas and why hunters. Then came the explanations of Hamato Yoshi's life, journey to America, mutations, spending almost seventeen years raising turtles that were more like humans. Sam often said "Awwww" under his breath, while Dean and Casey nudged each other and rolled their eyes.

"Okay," Dean said, "as much as I wanna break out the family photo albums-"

"There would not be many, anyway," Splinter interrupted. I did not acquire cameras for four years, so I mainly did charcoal drawings. Once the cameras were here, Donatello tried to find out how they worked, so Michelangelo broke half of them open."

The humans laughed. Donnie blushed. Raph just made a disgusted sound.

"You were a good father, though," Leonardo said fondly.

"Must have been nice," Sam said, wistfully.

Splinter tilted his head. "Did you…not have a father?"

Dean made an "Oy" sound. Sam shot him a glance.

"Ah, we did. I mean. When I was a baby, our mom was killed by a demon who made me drink its blood so I could later be a vessel for other demons, and then when we were old enough, Dad took us hunting, and then he was killed, and then we got to see him again, and he was killed again, and um. Mostly our lives have been about hotel rooms and the Impala, sooo…"

"What year?" Raph and Casey asked at the same time.

"Wh-wha?"

"The car," Raph said impatiently. "The Chevy Impala, man. What year is it?"

"1967," Dean said. "Black. Four-door sedan, raceback."

Raph's eyes widened. "Tell me she has a 327 powerglide turbo engine."

Dean's grin was toothy. "Yep. She's a beast."

"Ohhhh," Casey murmured. "Four barrel, V-8. Can I see her?"

Raphael slapped him upside the head, hissing. "Later, dude. When we're not in peril?"

"Yeah, but, like…you don't need me for this, do you?"

Dean whipped around and stared. "What, and you want me to take you topside to drool on my car when your friends are in crisis? What the hell, kid?"

Raph leaned toward him. "Lots of hockey. Too many hits to the skull."

"Hey! Those cars are so classic, and if I could get my hands on just one-"

"Shut up, Casey," Raph and Dean said in unison.

Sam coughed. They turned toward him. He was sitting with Mikey's arm slung over his shoulder, holding the turtle casually and gently, like a sleepy little brother. "Hey, so, he's only cooled down a little, thanks to his own telekinesis, so we'd better do this pretty quickly."

Dean looked at Splinter. "I mean, you heard what we found in our research. Is there any…mmm, Japanese folklore that talks about super-psychic snake demons hiding underground?"

Splinter sighed. "I am afraid very little is known about _hebe-yokai,_ save for the fact that, like the others, they are most likely shapeshifters and tricksters. There are many kinds, however, and our enemy here is obviously one that is very rare or uncommon. That they have telekinetic abilities, feed on the soul, and can only be killed by iron does not surprise me. I believe it must be pure, whole iron, however."

"Oh, like this?" And Dean held up a dagger, polished, with a very sharp iron blade.

"Nice eye-poker." Raph had one of his sai out, and he clinked it against the iron.

"It's also a useful letter-opener. Usually we banish ghosts with it, but as long as I can clean it after your brother stabs those snakes with it, we'll be cool."

"Dudes," and Mikey's exhausted laugh floated around the lair. "It'll be fine. No, April, you can't do what I'm doing, stay here and play with Ice Cream Kitty. Ooh! Gimme a sec, I gotta stick my head in the freezer."

Sam was thrown to his knees from the force the sick turtle pushed himself up with, and Donnie had to wrap both arms around his waist. "Mikey, you can let Ice Cream Kitty lick you after we fight demon snakes!"

"But she's so cool and refreshing!"

"What the hell is Ice Cream Kitty?" Sam panted.

And the freezer meowed.

* * *

"Oh," Dean said, staring into the bowl full of ice. "So, that's what a cat mutated with ice cream looks like."

She was cute, her bottom chocolate and flat and settled well into the ice. She also seemed to hear every word he was saying, because she meowed and _smiled_ at him.

He leaned in just close enough to get a lick on the nose, leaving a trail of strawberry ice cream. He wiped at it with a finger and stared.

"Don't lick it off," Leo warned.

"Why?" Sam asked, petting the Neopolitan cat and getting a lick on his finger and a purr in return. "Is she full of poison?"

"No, she just tastes really good."

The boys raised their eyebrows, and at the same time licked the ice cream off their fingers.

"Oh," Sam said. "Wow," Dean finished.

"Mew?" said the cat.

Blinking, Dean leaned down until they were face to face. She leaned forward and licked his nose firmly, then mewed happily. And then Dean licked her back. She danced happily.

"Dude," Sam said with an exasperated smile, "I can't believe you just licked a cat on the cheek."

Dean grinned, licking his lips. "A cat made of ice cream!"

Leo was trying not to laugh and failing.

Dean wasn't even trying to hide his enjoyment as he wiped the ice cream off and licked his finger. "Really good. Yeah."

"Told you," Raph said. "Okay Mikey, we gotta put her back."

"But I'm not done!" cried the feverish youngest, with his head stretched into the freezer as far as it would go.

"Okay, baby brother," Don said, grabbing his shoulders. "Come on. We have some homicidal snake demons to kill. I can't believe I said that with a straight face. Why the hell are you so strong all of a sudden? Somebody help me out, here?"

Sam and Dean both grabbed on to Mikey, carefully prying him as he whimpered. Two ice trays floated out alongside his head.

"Hey, buddy, hey," Dean said softly, in a Big Brother voice, patting his head, "Come on, kiddo. Put the ice trays back. They can't come with us, okay?"

"But it's hooot!" Mikey's eyes rolled up and met Dean's, imploring, and for a moment Dean was stunned speechless at how adorable he looked. He found himself grinning. "Hey, Sammy, he reminds me of you as a toddler!"

"What, the big eyes thing? Whoa. Oh. Yeah. Dad fell for that a lot."

"We do, too," Donatello said, waiting for Leo to return Ice Cream Kitty before closing the freezer door. "It's how he gets away with so many things. It brings out our raging protective instincts, and our miserable failure instincts when he gets hurt." The pain in his voice made Sam frown and reach for him.

Leo cleared his voice. "Uh, sooo…do you guys have a place to stay for the night?"

"Not yet," Dean said. "We haven't even made hotel reservations."

"Don't," Leo said. "We have a spare room."

Sam stared at him. "You…ah…you sure?"

The turtles nodded. Leonardo shrugged. "You're helping us save Mikey's life."

"Yeah," Mikey giggled, "for what, the fifth time, already? Yo, Donnie! What's my death tally? I think it's four! I thought we were keeping score! I just came outta the four-month coma, that was hard healing work. D'you know how long it takes to heal two broken legs and a crushed chest? No wonder it was four months." It was a big speech in his condition. He panted heavily, sweating, opening his mouth to say something else and managing a whispered "You're a good medic Donnie. I wanna be you when I grow up."

Donatello flinched, hard, and Sam's eyes widened. "Uh…sounds close to ours, really."

"Wait," Raphael said, "Both o' you guys died?"

"Long story," both Winchesters sighed.

Michelangelo giggled again, stumbling against Dean's firm hold. "I know! III know! It's in their miiinds!" Dean gave him a sharp, wide-eyed look.

"Mikey!" Leo said, "You promised you wouldn't read without permission!"

"Well," Sam said, steering Mikey to a chair, then holding him by the shoulders, "he is delirious. I doubt he can control his powers well."

Raphael folded his arms. "At least shit's not flying around the house again."

"Nope!" Mikey said, a little more somber, "just flying around in here." He pointed to his temple. "Until the snakes are bye bye."

"I am…not sure what that means," Don said.

Sam bit his lip, staring at Mikey's head. "He's holding it all in. Building it up. Because of his condition right now." He smiled at some confused faces and said, "I'm… kinda psychically sensitive. It gets stronger around powerful people. Like him. He's the strongest we've ever met. Not counting witches and demons. But seriously, he's, like, barricading a bunch of power as hard as he can."

Dean blinked. "Ohh. Like floodgates. Okay, well, we've seen what that's like, we should-"

Both Sam and Mikey jerked, then froze, then very slowly turned to the turnstiles.

"Did you hear a hissing sound?" Sam asked.

"It's hotter," Mikey whispered.

"Shit," Sam whispered. "They're here!"

"What?" Dean yelled.

Sam ran to get the iron dagger, yelling, "They're not waiting for anyone to come to them. They sense Mikey, the heat and power he's registering. They sense me. They're both coming this way."

"What?" Raph said. "I thought they had to wait until someone came to them!"

"Uh, apparently when they sense this much psychic power in one place…theeey go hunting?" Sam offered a very apologetic grin, slowly helping Mikey out of the chair and turning him away from the freezer. Raphael gave him a slight "I might harm you but you're taking care of my brother" stare before grabbing his own weapons.

"Are you fucking kidding me with this right now…" Dean muttered between clenched teeth, and went to get his handgun.

* * *

The four turtles and two armed humans, insisting that anyone else stay in the lair, went past the turnstiles and began walking. Sam and Raph, being the strongest, were holding Mikey between them, who was slowly, carefully, regaining his sense of balance, if not some awareness. Sam held the iron dagger in his free hand and tried to imbue it with any power he could dredge up. "What I wouldn't give to be telekinetic again," he muttered. "Even possessed by demons."

"Yeah, we'll save that story for later," Raph grumbled. "You and your demons."

"You and your aliens," Sam shot back.

"Yeah, well, say it to Leatherhead's face."

"Who is Leatherhead?"

"Giant mutant alligator, Mikey's good pal."

"I knew there were giant alligators!" Dean crowed. "I fucking knew it!"

A slithering made them pause, Dean and Leo in the front, Leo drawing his swords and Dean cocking the hammer back on his engraved Colt .45. As Leo turned his head a fraction and narrowed his eyes, Dean said, "Don't you dare knock this thing, you know how many evil monsters we took out with it? I know you're all, like, sword and honor, but that's you, man."

Not saying a word, Leonardo merely turned his head back and tightened his grips on his swords.

As the targets came into view, Dean looked up, and muttered. "Yeah, should've brought a bigger gun."

The first snake-creature dove down, and Leo yelled "Face!" while Dean yelled, "Eyes!" and they struck and fired.

"Nope, made it mad," Dean said, and Leo growled. Dean tilted his head back. "SAMMY!"

"All right, Mikey, we're up," and at this point Sam was taking all the turtle's weight after Raph had drawn his sai. Urging Michelangelo to the side, away from the battle, he yelled, "Hey! Snake things! Over here!" and before he even knew what he was doing, he slashed his arm with the iron blade.

"Sammy, what the hell!"

"Wait, is he supposed to do that?"

But time had slowed. Both snake demons were focused on them. Michelangelo suddenly pulled away from him swaying on his feet, and grabbed the dagger, muttering, "That was silly, I'm better." He then sliced his own right hand, dripping blood on the blade. Raphael, in the background, roared. Sam stared in shock as Mike pointed at Sam's arm, and Sam watched his arm wound seal up. Michelangelo stepped in front of him, and Sam held out a hand to steady him. Mikey was gripping the blood-soaked dagger, blood running down his arm, dripping on the floor. Sam heard Mikey whisper something in Japanese.

As the first snake's head came into view, Mike stabbed an eye up to the hilt and there was a screech. He stabbed its other eye, and the creature rippled like a heat wave, rearing back and collapsing, turning to a fine mist. The other creature screamed, and Mikey just threw the dagger in its face. It became mist and heat, and Mikey sagged against Sam, apparently exhausted. Out of the corner of his eye, Sam watched Raphael, expressions warring on his face.

"Well," Leonardo said, lowering his katanas.

"Okay, then," Dean said, holstering the gun. He walked to the still-swirling mist. He kicked at the dagger before picking it up, then exclaiming "Ow!" before dropping it.

"That would be because it is extremely hot, I'm guessing," Donatello said dryly.

"That how you use all your intelligence?" Dean grumbled.

"Yeah, okay, I got it," Michelangelo mumbled, staggering forward. He picked up the dagger in both hands, even as his bleeding hand sizzled, and before there was another sound, he turned his head and said, "Shove it, Raph, I said I got this." And he slowly began walking to the lair, swaying a little and limping on his left leg. He pointed a finger back at Dean, and the blisters on his hand vanished.

"Well," Dean said, blinking, "that's useful."

"It takes very little energy to heal others," Donnie said, "extraordinary amounts of energy to heal himself."

"So, what you're saying is someone should catch up to him before he passes out on the floor, got it," and Sam ran ahead.

* * *

"As battles go," Dean said, over a large bite of pizza gyoza, "that was almost anti-climactic. But fun! I don't think anyone else we know could have done that. Man, these are _good._ We're still gonna save some for Mikey when he wakes up, right?"

He had already eaten half a dozen, and seeing what was left on the table, the endless sea of dumplings, no one worried about putting some aside.

Donatello returned from his lab, which contained the infirmary, and resumed his place at the table. "Mikey should wake up within the hour. He's healing and cooling down simultaneously, so he'll be weak and hungry. Which ones are we setting aside?"

Sam pointed silently to the dozen that Murakami had already wrapped in another bag, marked with Mikey's name. "Dean's so blissed out he forgot."

"I think I like these better than pie," Dean said over a mouthful.

Sam paused and stared and stared. "Holy shit. I think we'll need to place another order before we leave."

"A big one."

"And then come back."

"There's more monsters in New York, right?"

Splinter stood in the doorway, smiling. "The guest room is prepared, my friends. You may have the first showers."

"Right, right," Sam said, "your bathroom has multiple stalls and tubs and fixtures, that's pretty neat."

Dean agreed with a sound, around his mouthful.

"Perhaps, tomorrow morning, you would like to sit in and watch us perform some katas?"

The boys shrugged at each other. "Sure," Sam said, "we could always use ideas on combat."

"Think Psychic Boy will be up for that?" Dean asked.

"Mikey will be fine," Raph said. "He just needs sleep. And provided he doesn't prank anyone, we'll all be bright and happy."

Later, Sam and Dean prepared the room, and sat around the couch with Leo and Raph, watching horror movies. In the middle of the first film, Mikey walked out of the infirmary, limping, stretching. "Oh, good, I'm not missing the marathon."

"Hey!" Sam jumped up and offered him a seat. "Glad to see you're okay!"

"Thanks," and the smile Mikey offered was sweet, strong, and shining, and Sam smiled back, basking in that natural grin. As long as this kid was all right, he felt better. He truly understood in that heartbreaking way how it is to have a precious brother you would be willing to die for.

"Hey, pal," Dean clapped him on the shoulder as Mikey sat between the brothers, his bandaged hand reaching for a can of soda. "You did really good."

"Yeah, I guess so," and Mikey's shy smile and ducked head made them meet eyes over his head.

"You really did, Mikey," Leo added, and Mikey's head snapped up. "We mean it. We don't mean to tease you all the time, but we all know your potential. With or without the psionics. I mean, did you know your hands were shaking when you stabbed those things?"

"R-really? I didn't know…" and Mikey flushed, causing the Winchesters to put their hands on his shell with another concerned glance. Raphael leaned forward, to Dean and said, "He gets kinda weird about praise sometimes. He's got ADHD, and he slips up a lot. He gets in the way and sometimes we just…let our frustrations out."

And the Winchesters nodded, their mouths forming Os, and kept their hands on Mikey's shell encouragingly.

* * *

Later, as the turtles dragged themselves to bed, Sam and Dean were stopped by Splinter on their own way. "I wanted to give you this, for your journey," the rat ninja said. He held out a slender kunai, carved with engravings on the handle and the base of the blade. "It carries the Hamato clan crest."

The brothers stared and gaped a little, and Sam smiled and bowed, murmuring deep thanks, while Dean's eyes were wide with awe, clearly impressed. He just nodded. And at the silent and deep appreciation, Splinter merely nodded and smiled. "It is also," he added, "imbued with my own spiritual energy, and that of our dojo tree. Perhaps it will slay a difficult creature or two along your way."

As the boys were still smiling at each other, the tall humanoid rat held out his arms and embraced them warmly. Finally relaxing, they shut their eyes and smiled, feeling a lifetime of sorrow, weight, wayward travel, and battle slowly dissipating, just a little. Sam was clearly struggling not to cry, and Dean was biting his lip so hard it bled. As they separated, that sensation of peace remained. There was peace when they were done.

"See you in the morning, boys," Splinter smiled. "And may we meet again on the long road. Try to not fly so high that you fall too far."

Neither knew what to say. Splinter knew that. He merely bowed, and they bowed back, and as the rat ninja turned to face the tree in the center of the dojo, the Winchesters headed toward their own room, dizzy and overwhelmed but more relaxed than they could understand.

* * *

And in the shared bed that night, Sam looked over at Dean right before closing his eyes, and said, "I miss Dad."

"Yeah. G'night, little brother," Dean said fondly, and turned off the bedside lamp. His last thought was of Raphael and Michelangelo, and brothers' bonds.

Nobody had nightmares that night.

* * *

"I don't care about whose DNA has recombined with whose. When everything goes to hell, the people who stand by you without flinching-they are your family." ―Jim Butcher

"You must remember, family is often born of blood, but it doesn't depend on blood. Nor is it exclusive of friendship. Family members can be your best friends, you know. And best friends, whether or not they are related to you, can be your family." ― Trenton Lee Stewart


End file.
